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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562962">Funerals and Whiskey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHowdoyoudo/pseuds/MissHowdoyoudo'>MissHowdoyoudo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wish It Were Me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dead Klaus Hargreeves, Funeral, Gen, This is sad guys, Underage Drinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:33:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,226</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHowdoyoudo/pseuds/MissHowdoyoudo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Diego's thoughts during the funeral.</p>
<p>Set during chapter three of "If Only It Were Me"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wish It Were Me [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>320</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Funerals and Whiskey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought it would be a good idea to add in the funeral, but since IOIWM is just Ben and Klaus POV switching, I decided to make this a mini scene outside of the actual fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He had failed. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he had failed his siblings irreversibly, and he wasn’t the one to bear the consequences alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus had died.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus </span>
  <em>
    <span>was dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it wasn’t a mission that needed all of them, Reginald had said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He should have insisted on coming. He should have made Klaus stay behind when he noticed the other too high to function well. He should have--should have--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, it was too late now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here they were, standing outside on a bright, sunny day with reporters lined up behind the procession, waiting for tears or a breakdown or something perfect for the headlines. Ben was at his side, eyes vacant and breaths ragged. Diego kept a steadying hand at his elbow, but Ben didn't even register his presence. It broke his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had lost two brothers in four days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben had slept the remainder of the day away, when he got back from that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> mission, and didn’t wake until the next morning. He had asked for Klaus, Luther told them, and was distraught when he was informed the Horror killed his brother. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course he would be</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Diego seethed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You shouldn’t have told him, you </span>
  </em>
  <span>moron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben had trashed the infirmary, had hurt himself, and was apologizing over and over to their </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead brother</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the time Luther had returned with Grace. He had been sedated, and slept through the rest of the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he woke again, he asked immediately for Klaus. Diego remembered vividly, because it was the most traumatic minutes of his life. Ben had screamed for their brother, wailing and apologizing and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleading</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the other to come back. He wouldn’t calm down, no matter how much they held him or talked to him, the way Klaus did after a particularly nasty mission. Allison finally had to come in and rumored for him to be calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, well . . . now he was completely unresponsive and was barely breathing. It terrified Diego. His baby brother just </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t there</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. Diego’s heart twisted and he would have cried had he not wanted to keep a consistent eye on Ben in case the other “woke up” . . . or stopped breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t allow for Ben to follow Klaus. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The service in the church was probably hours long, but Diego didn’t even notice. He was so wrapped up in the ways he could have changed things, how he needed to watch out for Ben now, and feeling generally sorry for himself that he didn’t pay attention. It wouldn’t have mattered. No amount of words would describe how precious or annoying Klaus had been, the bastard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, here he stood, hand gentle on his catatonic brother as his other brother’s casket was lowered into the ground. The sun beat down on them harshly, like it was punishing them for allowing this travesty to happen. Ben wheezed, and Diego patted his back until he was at a steady rhythm again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allison was crying softly into Luther’s shoulder. Luther was stoic, and Diego angrily wondered if Number One even cared. Sure didn’t seem like it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vanya stood next to their father, face blank but eyes watering as Klaus’s casket lowered further and further into the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego refused to cry. He wouldn’t give the public what they wanted. Perhaps later, once the anger settled in his chest and Luther wasn’t around for him to lash out against. Until then, all he allowed to show was a tense jaw and murderous glares at the reporters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated Reginald for making the funeral public. He hated that Klaus was taken to some random graveyard away from the manor, where anybody could flock to his gravesite and ogle. He hated that Reginald didn’t bat an eye, that he stood stiff and proud as always, that he didn’t care for Klaus’s lost life. He hated that Klaus was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger surged up in him once more, venom coating his throat ready to be spat at anyone who dared get too close. The world was cruel, and one of the few good things in it was taken away from him. He wanted to riot, to maim and torture. He wanted Reginald in that casket. He wanted Luther’s dumb stoic face to be hurt and crying. He wanted the world to pay for what it had done to his family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The longer he simmered, the more pain and anger he conjured, until he was shaking at Ben’s side. Ben, who obliviously stared at nothing and breathed; in, out, in, out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The emotional whiplash he gained when the dirt was being shovelled in nearly knocked him off his feet. Confusion, hurt, sorrow, and pain replaced the anger in an instant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was Klaus, his baby brother, being buried under grave dirt. He was being buried, in a graveyard, something he hated feverishly. His brother was being buried because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he wouldn’t see him ever again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego wouldn’t see his brother again. Wouldn’t hear his laugh or his obnoxious jokes, wouldn’t smell the weed coming from his room or the alcohol on his breath. Wouldn’t see him dance around carelessly like a newborn giraffe. Wouldn’t hear him sing an awful tune in time with Vanya’s violin, wouldn’t see him in the kitchen at an ungodly hour because he “couldn’t sleep and got the munchies, Diego!”. He would never have that again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not unless he really did start to go insane, like he nearly had the other day when he woke up to screaming the morning after the mission. At first, he thought he had a nightmare. But the scream followed him from his dreams into the real world, and he had grabbed the nearest holster on his side table and hurried into the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw Klaus. Bloody and broken and wailing, on the floor, head in his hands as he pulled at his curls. He froze, mouth drying and his head growing light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus had been there, in the hall. No one else had heard or seen him. Diego must have been going insane from the longing he felt to see his brother alive again. He hated what his brain concocted for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, clearing it of the incident. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>traumatized</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wasn’t seeing a Klaus who wasn’t there. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a shaky breath as the casket was finally completely covered by dirt. An irrational thought entered his mind, memories of Klaus holding a flashlight in a barely dim room resurfacing. Klaus hated the dark. He hated being lonely. Could Diego allow for this to happen? To leave his brother like this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben’s breath stuttered when the casket was no longer in sight, and Diego held him to his chest. Away from the sight, even if the other wasn’t registering what he was seeing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Ben,” Diego whispered into his brother’s hair. Ben’s shoulder’s untensed, he thought, and he tightened his hold. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben said nothing, of course, but his head leaned more heavily into Diego’s shoulder, and he interpreted it as a silent thank you from his brother. Diego bit his lip, hard, to keep the tears at bay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each shovel of dirt that was thrown over his brother took just a little more of his soul with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Diego . . .”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his head to see Vanya, clutching at her dress and biting her lip. She sniffled and stepped a little closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I . . . I mean . . .” she hesitated. He wanted to bark at her to just spit it out. He didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I take Ben home? I don’t want to stay here any longer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Protective instincts yelled at him to keep Ben close, don’t let him from his view. His lip curled and he maneuvered Ben away from Vanya’s sight, Ben following along without trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vanya stepped back, alarm in her features. “I-I’m not going to hurt him,” she said. “I just thought . . . maybe it would be a good idea to get him home, since, you know . . .” she gestured to the grave, now finished in sealing the hole, trapping his brother deep below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus hated small spaces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“L-L-Let’s go,” Diego said instead. He couldn’t stand to be here any longer. He couldn’t keep thinking about Klaus, all alone in a dark, cold, tight space, unable to free himself. He couldn’t keep thinking about how Klaus looked when he got home, covered in his own blood and seeming to be merely resting. He couldn’t handle this. “Ben will n-need to eat any-anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vanya nodded, but didn’t start moving until he did. He gave one last, long look at the grave, heart sinking lower and lower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Goodbye, Klaus</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They clambered into the house, faces drawn and eyes red. Diego took Ben to the kitchen immediately, looking for some crackers or something for him to eat. Luther and Allison (who had followed when they realized Ben was leaving) shuffled into the room and settled at opposite ends, Allison leaning against the table near Ben and Luther near one of the tall windows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego didn’t speak to them, didn’t bother. He plated some crackers, then decided to add some cheese, too. Maybe Ben would eat if he saw some favorites? But he also didn’t want to push too far. His brother was probably tired from all the events of the day and needed rest soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He placed the plate in front of Ben, who just blinked at the food. He sighed and leaned his hip against Ben’s chair, wondering what he could do for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Vanya came in and asked a question Diego had been wondering for two days. He tried not to get his hopes up when she leaned over Ben to try to get him out of his funk--because surely, if anyone here could get Ben to come back, it was Vanya, right? After Klaus, she was the closest to Ben.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it didn’t work, however, the anger returned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” he stated, before practically fleeing the room, shoulders tense and lips pursed. He wanted to throw something. Preferably knives. And preferably at the giant painting of Reginald.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would have, too, if he didn’t see Vanya scurrying past him and up into her room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room next to Klaus’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t notice his feet carrying him to Klaus’s room until he was standing just outside the door. His hand stilled on the knob, a sudden fear that the room would be clean and empty of his brother’s things causing him pause. What if Mom had already gotten to changing things?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego took a deep breath, and before he could back out, swung the door wide open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clothes were still littered all over the place. Clothes that belonged not just to Klaus, but to all the others. Klaus loved taking people’s clothes. Diego never understood why, but he’d trade the annoyance he felt towards his missing clothes over this hollow feeling in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The covers were piled on the end of the bed and spilling onto the floor. A few bottles were tucked sloppily under the desk, not hidden well at all. Klaus must have gone on the mission drunk, too. He choked up at the sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego ran his hands over some of the clothes, his lips quirking when he found his missing sweater amongst the trash (paper bags meant to hold drugs, most likely). There was a book, too, precariously balanced on the edge of the desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had Ben been in here before they left? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picked up the book, brows raised at the title. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Supernatural: A Guide to Ghosts and Hauntings</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus</span>
  </em>
  <span> reading it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held the book to his chest and moved further through the room, but stopped again when his foot hit something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bottle of whiskey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned down to pick it up. The label was expensive. Most likely from Dad’s stash. It was unopened, and when he twisted off the cap, he was surprised that he knew the smell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It smelled so much like Klaus that it hurt. It must be his favorite whiskey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tears finally fell from his eyes, the pressure released after having been held for so long. He was alone, so he didn’t have to worry about someone seeing him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego heaved a shaky sigh, flopping onto Klaus’s bed and tipping the bottle back. The book was still held firmly against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The alcohol burned on its way down his throat, and he just about gagged on it. How could Klaus like this stuff? Lucky for him, and Klaus’s carpet, he kept it down. He took another swig.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If this was the only way for him to connect with Klaus, he’d suffer through it. The whiskey burned, he hated the taste, but it smelled like Klaus and maybe getting drunk would help him through the night. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay sane unless he had a distraction outside of the family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long for the room to start spinning and for his head to float far away. The tears fell harder, but he took another swig. And another. Salty tracks mixed with smokey spice until he couldn’t remember why he was so sad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passed out just before the sun rose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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